


what I say & what I mean

by finkpishnets (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-29
Updated: 2011-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam winces as she discreetly slips her shoes off under the table, the heels rubbing across her latest set of blisters; her head’s fuzzy with tiredness and the single vodka and coke she’d accepted earlier and the club’s too full and too loud, music pounding between the walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what I say & what I mean

Liam winces as she discreetly slips her shoes off under the table, the heels rubbing across her latest set of blisters; her head’s fuzzy with tiredness and the single vodka and coke she’d accepted earlier and the club’s too full and too loud, music pounding between the walls. They shouldn’t even be here except they’d performed earlier and the management hadn’t seemed too eager to kick them out; Simon’s words about being in the public eye echo in her ears and she forces a coy smile, something sweet and sexy, and hopes it doesn’t come off as pained.

Harry and Louis are sitting further down the booth, whispering and giggling like they don’t know there are a dozen cameras about. Maybe that’s the point; their girlmance sells, snaps all over the internet and in the pages of magazines Liam’s spent her whole life not reading, and while she would love to believe people like One Direction because they’re talented, the truth is most people just find them pretty.

Zayn’s at the bar; she’s old enough to buy her own drinks and passed the point of tipsy about three Bacardi’s ago, flirting with the circle of guys that aren’t listening to a word she’s saying. Liam’s pretty sure Louis’ been sneaking Harry drinks too, so when Niall drops down next to her, flushed and happy but clear-eyed, Liam’s relieved.

“We’re probably going to have to carry the others out of here,” she says, and Niall grins.

“As long as no one falls over and flashes their knickers we should be okay.”

Liam rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure Harry wore her favourite pair for that very reason.”

“Yes,” Niall says, “but if Harry flashes her knickers then the world will just coo and think _isn’t she adorable_ rather than _wow, what a drunken mess_.”

“Bitch,” Liam says with a smile.

Niall’s dancing a little in her seat, her fingers tapping along with the drumbeat against her thigh; she turns to say something and stops, eyes caught on a spot over Liam’s shoulder, and when Liam turns her head she feels her entire body freeze.

Harry and Louis are kissing, laughing against each other’s lips like it’s just another joke, one of those things, and Liam doesn’t need to see the flashes to know this is going to be all over the web in about thirty seconds.

Liam’s heart is racing and her nails are digging into her palms with the effort of not screaming. Harry and Louis pull away and continue talking to the guys next to them like it was nothing, and Liam’s _angry_ ; Louis has a wonderful boyfriend who’s stuck with her through everything, not caring that a large portion of the nation is looking at his girlfriend’s chest rather than listening to her sing, and now he’s going to have to deal with people asking him if his girlfriend’s gay, if they’re still together, and it’s not like Harry doesn’t have a handful of guys she’s sort of maybe seeing herself. This _could_ be an epic PR disaster and it _will_ be the only thing they’re asked about in interviews for ages, and Liam really wants to drag them both out of here and scream at them for being so stupid.

Except the real reason she’s upset isn’t any of those things, and she feels nauseous as she blinks back angry tears. Harry and Louis may think it’s funny to kiss for other peoples entertainment but Liam actually _likes_ girls and she hasn’t said anything to anyone, not even her band, because she didn’t want her sexuality to be the reason they didn’t make it; she’s always figured she’d wait until they had an album or two under their belts, had made a name for themselves that didn’t echo _The X Factor_ , and then casually bring it up like it was nothing.

But now she can’t. Maybe she’s overreacting and maybe she’s not, but she’s pretty much certain that if she ever came out now people would just assume it was a publicity stunt – _look at One Direction pretending to be lesbians for media inches_ – and that’s just not _fair_.

She jumps when Niall’s fingers curl around hers, squeezing gently, and hopes the break in her voice isn’t obvious as she says: “I think knickers are the least of our problems.”

“Yeah,” Niall says quietly. “We should probably go.”

Liam nods, let’s Niall pull her gently out of the booth and picks up her shoes; she’s pretty sure no one’s going to care about her being barefoot in public tonight. Zayn’s either not as drunk as she’d thought or just really good at holding her alcohol because she’s already sharing a look with Niall and coaxing Harry and Louis towards the door, ignoring their protests.

“Guys,” Louis says when they’re outside, “what the hell?”

“Exactly,” Zayn says dangerously, and Liam needs to buy her presents for being so awesome, seriously. “What the _hell?_ ”

“We were just messing around,” Harry says with a pout.

Liam still hasn’t said anything, can’t trust herself to stay calm, and it’s Niall who says: “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

Zayn sighs, reaching out to grab Harry’s arm as she topples a little in her heels. “Let’s just go back to the hotel and sleep. And then tomorrow, when everyone’s a lot more clear-headed, Liam can shout at you like she really, really wants to before Simon’s people have their turn.”

Seriously, Liam thinks: _presents._

 

+

 

Simon’s people do shout at them but the truth is they’re girls and the hypocrisy means they can get away with it; Liam thinks of Matt and Aiden and how careful they always have to be that no one actually captures _proof_ and realises she’s probably going to be angry at her bandmate’s for a while yet even if Louis had bought her tea from Starbucks, looking appropriately apologetic and hungover when she’d woken up.

She’s reading Zafon on her hotel bed when Niall finds her, knocking out a rhythm Liam can’t quite place against the door until she lets her in.

“Can I paint your toes?” Niall says, and Liam blinks.

“Uh,” she says, “sure?”

Niall kicks off her shoes and sits cross-legged at the bottom of Liam’s bed, fumbling in the pockets of her cardigan. She doesn’t say anything, just waves a hand for Liam to sit down, and Liam only frowns for a moment before picking up her book and leaning against the headboard.

There are still too many thoughts running through her head and she tries losing herself in words but keeps having to read the same paragraph over and over. The initial overwhelming feeling of betrayal she experienced last night has all but vanished, only to be replaced with guilt; she’s never said anything to them and yet part of her still think that they really should have maybe _known_ , and that’s her problem, not theirs.

“Done,” Niall says after a while, leaning down to blow gently across Liam’s feet in a way that gives her goosebumps. Niall’s eyelashes are casting shadows across her cheeks as she holds her hair out of the way, a few strands breaking loose and curling between her fingers, and Liam blinks when she looks up and smiles.

“So,” Niall says, sitting back on her heels, and Liam tries not to notice the way her chest tightens at the lack of contact. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Liam says automatically, and then feels a little guilty when Niall raises an eyebrow as if to say _do I look like an idiot?_ “Okay, maybe not _fine_ , but better. I don’t want to strangle them both in their sleep anymore. That’s progress.”

“I’d have helped you hide the bodies,” Niall says, and Liam grins.

“Cheers.”

Niall bites her lip, seems to be on the verge of saying something, when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Niall says, standing up. “I’m going anyway.”

“Oh,” Liam says, frowning. “Sure. Bye.”

Niall throws her a smile over her shoulder as the little glass nail varnish bottles clink in her pockets, but she doesn’t say anything else as she leaves, letting Harry slide in.

“Hi,” Harry says nervously, ducking her head and running a hand through her curls.

Liam sighs. “Hey.”

It’s only as Harry’s apologising for the tenth time that Liam realises every one of her toenails is painted a different colour.

It’s everything her clean cut, girly image isn’t, but she kind of loves it anyway.

 

+

 

The week’s full of rehearsals and shows and interviews, moving from one city to the next, and by the end of it Liam’s too tired to be mad at anyone. Still, she’s smart enough to connect recent events with her inability to sleep properly, and it’s difficult enough travelling cramped onto a bus without added tension so she’s mostly hoping that the others haven’t noticed that she spends most of the night curled up on the sofa listening to her iPod and watching episodes of _Green Wing_.

She’s scratching at a hole in her pyjama bottoms, Bowie singing about Life on Mars quietly in her ears, when there’s a tap on her shoulder.

“Shit,” she says, biting her lip hard, the coppery taste of blood spilling lightly over he tongue.

“Sorry!” Niall says sheepishly, dropping down onto the sofa next to her and leaning over to check out the damage, her t-shirt twisting out of place; there’s a strip of pale skin on show above her hip when she moves and Liam tries not to stare.

“S’okay,” Liam says, running her tongue across her lip and only wincing a little at the sting.

Niall doesn’t say anything for a while and Liam wonders if she should start a conversation but she can hear Zayn’s breathing through the door and doesn’t want to be responsible for the whole bus waking up. Eventually Niall shuffles closer and looks at Liam questioningly before snagging an ear bud; it’s not the most comfortable of positions, and Liam only lets herself freak out a little before she sides down so that Niall falls into her side, shifting her leg until Niall’s thigh slots between hers, and that’s better even if it is dangerously close to all the things Liam tries not to let herself think about.

Niall sighs contentedly and rests her head against Liam’s shoulder, her breath warm against Liam’s cheek, and it’s comfortable and sweet and _terrifying_ , but Liam finds herself falling asleep for the first time in ages anyway, Niall’s fingers curled around her hip protectively.

 

+

 

“So,” Zayn says, sliding down the venue wall so she’s sitting with her legs pulled up to her chest, mirroring Liam. Liam doesn’t look at her, keeps watching Aiden waltz a laughing Louis around the stage while Matt drums out an uneven beat on the floor, but she’s pretty sure she knows what’s coming. “Want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Liam asks, and she doesn’t need to be looking to know that Zayn’s rolling her eyes.

“I think it kind of defeats the object if I’m the one to say it,” Zayn says, and Liam feels suddenly nauseous.

“Yeah,” she says because Zayn’s not stupid and anything else would be a lie and mostly just insulting.

“You don’t have to,” Zayn says, “and I’ve mostly let you get away with not saying anything because there’s not really been anything to talk _about_ , but now-” She breaks off and turns to where Niall’s bringing a tray of Starbucks cups down the stands, and Liam’s pretty sure her heart stops.

“Don’t freak out,” Zayn says quickly. “I’m almost completely certain that no one else knows, okay? Seriously.”

Liam’s fingers curl into her palms and she reminds herself to _breathe_.

“It’s nothing,” she says eventually.

“Right,” Zayn says doubtfully. “A nothing that’s got you looking like you’re ready to run and not come back.”

“Look,” Liam says, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s not important. Nothing’s going to happen and even if it _were_ , it _can’t_ because whatever Louis and Harry may like to believe it’s not actually publically acceptable to be gay and in a girlband and expect to sell records to anyone accept pervy guys who like to imagine our lives are nothing short of a porn movie.”

“First,” Zayn says, “we should probably acknowledge the fact that you just said you were gay aloud. Have you done that before?”

Liam sighs feeling the fight drain out of her.

“No,” she says softly, “not really.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, nodding. “Now, secondly, everything you just said is bullshit. For starters nothing has to be public knowledge unless you want it to be, and also this _isn’t the nineteen fifties_. Yes, there’s still a worrying amount of homophobia around but there are also a hell of a lot of people that think that judging someone on their sexuality is crap. And I know you know that, so what’s the real problem?”

Zayn’s staring at her with wide, waiting eyes, and Liam doesn’t want to say it aloud because it’s kind of the worst part of the whole thing, and this will only make it real.

“Niall doesn’t like me like that,” she says, and: “she’s straight.”

Zayn nods, eyes darting over to the stage where Niall’s currently challenging Harry to a handstand competition. Liam looks down at the floor so she doesn’t see the way Niall’s top rides up.

“I think,” Zayn says, “that she probably thinks the same thing about you.”

Liam turns her head sharply, and Zayn’s looking at her closely, head tilted to one side and eyebrow raised, and Liam’s “What?” comes out sounding a lot more hopeful than she would have liked.

“You of all people should know that these things aren’t difficult to keep quiet if you try hard enough,” Zayn says. “Even I wasn’t entirely sure you were gay until you started looking at Niall with carefully disguised hearts in your eyes.”

“But-” Liam says, “no, what?”

“Just talk to her,” Zayn says. “And now I’m going to stop meddling because it’s _tiring_. Seriously, try and sort your shit out yourself in future. I love you but this is out of my depth.”

“Right,” Liam says, then, as an afterthought: “thanks.”

“Sure,” Zayn says. “I think you’re going to have to continue this revelation later though; we’re needed onstage.”

 

+

 

The whole talking thing isn’t actually as easy as Zayn would have her believe, and Liam knows that avoiding Niall instead isn’t exactly helping the issue but she can’t bring herself to say _so, I really like you, oh, and by the way, I’m gay._

Instead she calls her mum and hangs out with Aiden and Matt and cites extra rehearsal and tiredness as an excuse to disappear; Zayn keeps shooting her disappointed looks but Zayn’s tactic of winning over boys involves batting her eyelashes, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and crooking a finger so she really has no actual idea what Liam’s going through, thank you very much.

Louis’ boyfriend is out on tour with them and he’s sweet and charming and everyone adores him, and Liam uses the excuse of another body as yet another reason to never be alone with Niall, and it works up until the point Niall corners her outside their latest venue.

It’s raining and Niall’s hair is plastered to her head in a way that will make the stylists furious later; Liam’s about to point out that at least she kept to shelter when she notices the hurt look in Niall’s eyes and, _oh._

“Why?” Niall says, and Liam blinks.

“Why what?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” Niall asks, and Liam can hear the way her voice cracks just a little, and feels her own chest constrict. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Liam says quickly, feeling sick. “Oh God, seriously, _nothing_.”

“Then I don’t understand,” Niall says, ducking her head, and Liam isn’t sure what’s rain and what are tears.

“It’s not you,” Liam says, and she’s fully aware this sounds like a bad soap opera line but it’s the truth. “It’s me being a selfish bitch. I’m sorry.”

“I thought-” Niall says. “I thought maybe you found out and didn’t want to be around me anymore, and Zayn said that I should talk to you but every time I tried you ran away, and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable and I’ll try to stop, I promise, but please stop ignoring me.”

Liam’s head is trying to make sense of the words spilling from Niall’s lips; she looks so betrayed and so hopeful and Liam hates herself _so much_ because _she did this_ and hurting Niall is the last thing she ever wanted to do. She wants to say _you’re wrong_ and _I need to tell you something_ but the words catch on her lips and Niall’s nodding in something like resignation before turning and walking away.

It’s only when she’s out of reach that Liam connects the dots and realises what she’d been saying.

 

+

 

This time it’s Niall that’s ignoring her and even Harry and Louis notice, shooting them both curious looks and pulling unsure faces at each other when they think no one’s watching. Zayn’s looking at Liam like she’s not entirely sure why they’re friends, and Liam can’t blame her, wonders how much she knows and if she’s even mad _enough_.

Niall’s smiles are too big and too forced and she clings to everyone like a lifeline and doesn’t even try and come up with anything but the most transparent of excuses to leave the room when Liam enters; it’s breaking Liam’s heart and it’s all her own fault and she _doesn’t know how to fix it._

Except that she does, if she can only get over herself enough to actually do it.

“This time I’m cornering you,” Liam says, pushing into Niall’s hotel room.

Niall’s wearing a tank top and a thin pair of shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination, and Liam’s momentarily distracted by just how _pretty_ she looks with her hair pulled back in a messy bun and her face free of make-up.

“You’re wrong,” she says, and Niall frowns, looks ready to interrupt, but Liam’s worked herself up now and if she doesn’t keep going then there’s a chance she’ll run scared and that can’t happen. “You’re wrong about why I was ignoring you. It wasn’t because I was uncomfortable, not about you anyway. Well, not really. Shit, I’m messing this up.” She takes a deep breath. “I like you,” she says, like she should have done ages ago, “and I was terrified.”

“You were terrified,” Niall says slowly.

“Yes,” Liam says, “because no one knows I’m gay except Zayn and that’s only because she worked it out herself, and it’s not that I’m unsure or awkward about my sexuality because I figured it out ages ago, but, well, it’s technically all been _theory_ before.”

Niall watches her for a moment, folding her arms over her chest defensively before she says: “And now?”

“And now it’s not so much,” Liam says, and Niall nods but she’s looking at the floor.

Liam isn’t sure if it’s enough, if Niall’s just going to turn around and decide that she’s too high maintenance or not serious or _too_ serious, and she’s mentally preparing a speech that’s ultimately just the equivalent of begging when Niall steps forwards and kisses her.

Niall’s lips are warm and insistent and Liam can’t help the desperate little sound that slips out; Niall smiles before pressing closer, her fingers curling in Liam’s hair, and it feels even better than Liam expected it to.

“I like you too,” Niall says against her mouth, and Liam grins because, yeah, she’d worked that out – _eventually_ – but it’s nice to hear anyway.

Liam’s kissed people before – boys _and_ girls – but kissing Niall is different, unhurried and simple and with the promise of more; Liam doesn’t try to rush anything, just runs her hands down Niall’s sides and across her stomach to hear the little breathless sounds she makes, and it’s only when her lips feel bruised and her lungs are sore that she pulls away.

“Don’t,” Niall says before Liam can speak, and Liam frowns.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start talking about ruining the band or how people’s opinions of us will change or whatever,” Niall says. “I’ve been on the Internet, I _know_ what they think of us. And most of them are too busy debating whether Harry and Louis are actually sleeping with each other to care about _us_ anyway.”

Liam swallows and feels guilty that, yeah, given enough time to get her head in check those probably would have been her next points.

“Right,” she says instead.

“So,” Niall says, “what now?”

Liam can think of a hundred answers to that question ranging from the mundane to the downright dirty, but that’s for later. For now she just smiles.

 

+

 

The club’s crowded in a way that should be claustrophobic but Liam can feel Niall’s hand brushing against her arm and she doesn’t care how loud the music is or how the heat makes her dress cling to her skin. Harry’s trying successfully to talk a group of guys on a stag do into buying her drinks at the bar whilst Louis leans into Hannah and laughs at something he says, not really paying attention to the world around them; Liam can’t see Zayn but there’s a crowd of guys around a booth near the back that seems a little too coincidental.

“Dance with me?” Niall asks, breath warm against Liam’s cheek.

“Okay,” Liam says and lets Niall pull her to the dancefloor, smile big and bright as she twirls close.

“Oh!” Niall says after a moment when Liam’s forgotten that much else exists except them and the music. “Your toes.”

Liam looks down at her peep-toe heels and the multi-coloured nails that glint under the lights.

“They’re kind of chipped,” she says. “I was hoping you’d repaint them sometime.”

“Sure,” Niall says, grinning as she presses closer, the heat of her body spreading through Liam’s in a way that should be too much but just makes her want _more_. “I can do that.”

Liam thinks that when she kisses Niall in a club one day, under the too-bright lights and too-loud music with everyone watching, she’s not going to care who sees because she’s going to mean it and that’s all that matters.

But until then she dances.


End file.
